f ME CKMMC 




A Play m .Three Acet© 



BY 



OCT A VINE LOPEZ DREEBEN 



Copyright 1914 



f ME CMMCE 



g 



A Flay in Thire© Acts 



BY 



OCTA VINE LOPEZ DREEBEN 



Copyright 1914 









All rights reserved, including that of trans- 
lation into foreign languages, including the 
Scandinavian- 

All acting rights both professional and ama- 
teur are reserved. Performances forbidden and 
right of representation reserved. Piracy or in- 
fringement will be prosecuted in accordance with 
penalties provided by the United States Statutes: 
Sec. 1.966, l'. S. Revised Statutes, Title 60, 
Chap. 3. 

Application for the ri^ht of performing this 
play should be made to the author. 

P irsons desiring to read this play profession- 
alls in public should first apply to the author. 



SEP 3 1*« 






CCI.D 3 SO 4:5 



((Last 



JOHN TALBOT 
GEORGE MEYER 
TROLENE GODEZ 

Mrs. godez, her mother, 
a widow 

JEROME BLUM 
SALLIE TRAVIS 
LAMBERT GODEZ 
MR. BOLLOTER 
AUNT GU'ILLY 
UNCLE LIGE '■ 
MRS. JOHNSON 

hostess, guests, etc. 







*• 






V 












» Kn 






n ^ 






■ 












*> x 







"(The Choice 



ACT I. 

Scene: cr> right a portico of Colonial mansion nrrounded by flowers; 
ce away enormous blooming crepe myrtles, overhung with moss. An 
avenue of oaks leading out and oil the stage. Late in afternoon: sun bursts 
forth triumph antly before it finally goes to rest. 

JOHN TALF.OT. 
It is now two years since Mr. Godez died, and the change we appre- 
hended in the bi ginning has now come to pass. I understand Troleue and 
mother are pr< paring to move away, may even leave tonight. 

JEROME. 
Are niii sure 9 1 heard something about it and came to find out. 

JOHN TALfOT. 

Sallie fust now arrived with the news, so T came over to see Trolene. 

SALLIE. 
Ever since Mr. Godez died that rich uncle of Trolene s lias want"! 
i . in to come to him. Though they felt at some time they must move, the) 
h( sitated, dreading to leave their old home and friends. 

JOHN TALTOT 

Then why are tie 

SALLIE. 
it seems he has written another letter, more importunate than evei 
ife's death, leaving him alone in a large home, lie feels more k< 
Isolated, unprotected state. He wants them to end it by coming to 
live with him. 

JEROME. 
(Delighted.) Now, 1 am glad thej are going! 

JOHN TALPOT. 

(Sneeringly.) You! Why should von (are' 

JEROME. 
she will now have a chance to knew something of her people. 

SALLIE. 
That Is what her uncle writes. He wants her to study their history, to 
their struggles, to imbibe their custom! to know the beauties of their 
Ion. 



THE CHOICE 



JOHN TALBOT. 

(Sarcastically.) So living among such an exalted people she marry one of 
them. 

JEROME. 
Why shouldn't she? 

JOHN TALBOT. 
(Glaring at Jerome.) Why should she? Her people are here. There 
is as much of our blood in her veins as there is of that other. By the 
largest right — that of possession — we ought to keep here here. That has 
never been an issue in her life. Why should they want to make it on« 
now? To isolate, to designate her as one! 

JEROME. 
Why shouldn't they want to designate her as one, let her stand out, 
clear and strong as a noble one! 

JOHN TALBOT. 
Ycu, Jerome! I might have known that you, a representative incarnate, 
would say that. 

JEROME. 
(Sadly.) I am not representative of my race; I am sorry if you thin' 
so. I am only a poor degenerate offspring of a noble stock. 

JOHN TALBOT. 
It is with full realization of all your shortcomings that I again state 
you are representative. I and most of the people around here have the 
bluest blood running in our veins. I am descended from Lord Talbot of 
England, who had a long line of noble ancestors. Sallie's ancestry is also 
of the highest. We have only tolerated you and your father in this com- 
munity; he is a good merchant, that is all. We never consider him as any- 
thing else. As for you — 

JEFOME. 
Not one word more, John Talbot. I have a purer, a nobler strain run- 
ning through my veins than you. Thank goodness, I am not glutted and 
scurvied with the noble blood of a rake and roue! 

JOHN TALBOT. 
If you dare say another word against my noble ancestor, I'll strike — 

SALLIE. 
(Preventing.) Stop! None of that. You boys are always on the point 
of quarreling. What difference does it make who your ancestors were? 
It's what you are that counts. Most of us who have famous ancestors use 
up our lives with thinking of them, and amount to nothing; those who have 
none, accomplish something, and start an ancestry for those to follow. Here 
come Trolene and her shadow. 

(Enter Trolene. with old black mammy Guilly.) 

TROLENE. 
I waited for you to come to me, but as you seemed enamored of this 
spot, I thought I had better come to you. especially as a fight seemed immi- 
nent. With Sallie sole witness, I could resist no longer. Did you come to 
see me or just select this as a beautiful spot on which to fight and die? 
Why such gestures and glances between John and Jerome, that arresting 
arm of Sallie's — the muchly mooted question of ancestors again? Some 
kindly person ought to really let you fight it out, so put an end to these 
volcanic eruptions. 

SALLIE. 
I have just been telline them of vour leaving us. 

TROLENE. 
That surely is not what caused the quarrel. Just think, I have finally 
persuaded dear old Aunt Guilly to go with us. Some part of this dear old 
country to be with me? 



THE CHOICE 



JOHN TALBOT. 

Take me; I am native 

AUNT GUILLY. 

Dis heah white chile kin make Doah ole Ant Guillv do mos' ennvthin* 
Course I lias to k<> wid her, caise I jea couldn't lib heah widout her. I 
didn't need no persuadin' to go wid her, but whar she's going. But for wh> 
she should go away out W« s' where dere's cowboys that make guns say 
biff, ban? ebberry time dey looks at you, and throws ropes round yer neck:. 
!■[ dey kin for de Lord I jes kaint see why we hah to go there. I jes shud- 
der whenever I thinks about it, and sometimes I wakes up in de middle of 
de night feelin' dere's a rope eround my neck. Lord bless my soul, but 
ifraid to go! 

TROLENE. 
Dear old Aunt Guilly is going to save me from the cowboys, or be in at 
the (bath, so we can all go together. There's Uncle Lige, Aunt Guillv. 
You had better go talk with him about getting our things ready. Tell him 
to have the carriage about seven. 

SALLIE. 
1 a in going into the house, Trolene, to see your mother for a while. Be 
sure that John and Jerome go their separate ways. 

(Sallie exit into house. John and Jerome stare at each other: the Situa- 
tion becoming tense. Jerome decides to go.) 

JEROME. 
(Taking Trolene's hand, looking steadily into her eyes.) Good-bye, 
Trolene. We may never meet again, but this I want to say: Listen to your 
Uncle, become one with your people. We need such as you. (With one 
final glare at John, departs.) 

JOHN TALBOT. 
A tunny fellow, Jerome. He acts as though the world .had done him a 
wrong. I believe we are what you would call natural enemies. 

TROLENE. 
He is what the world and his race have made him. I am afraid it i* 
tl at which makes vou natural enemies more than your individual selves 

JOHN TALBOT. 
Let's not discuss it — nothing so dry as Jerome. The time is too precious 
to waste with him. It's no fun to argue with a girl — not some girls. Let's 
really talk of something nice; of you for instance; that always pleases me. 
Are you really, truly going — I mean to live? 

TROLENE. 
Yes, it is true. We have been a long time deciding; it is like being 
uprooted, leaving our old home and friends. But concluding it best, we 
leave tonight. 

JOHN TALBOT. 
I don't see how you can go; you are so well thought of here: your 
family such a representative one. Vou have stood for everything that was 
high. Your father even fought side by side with the other members; your 
mother has been a mother to all the homeless boys, consequently, idolized. 
your home has been a place of rest and pleasure tor those of us who have 
not been so fortunately situated. We would be just stranded, can't you see 
that? On your mother's side you are connected with some of us, you are 
one Of us We all want you, need you, love you. 

TROLENE. 
It certainly Is kind of you to say so; it is exonerating, even if one 
thinks the coloring a little too strong, knowing it painted by your dear 
Imagination. 

JOHN TALBOT. 
There is no place on earth you could ever go and occupy the same 
high position, plus the love and respect you now enjoy. Trolene. do nothing 
we all know will cause you regret. 



THE CHOICE 



TROLENE. 
I fear what you say is all too true. Love doesn't usually thrive in the 
rays that emanate from a high position. Should a human being of family 
enjoying both ever be foolish enough to give them up, I doubt if in the law 
of balances it would ever come to them again. I am not sure we are such a 
family as you have pictured, but if it were so it could not keep us, now that 
we have decided it is right for us to go. Circumstances which have happened 
since my fathers deaih, our lack of business ability and self-protection, 
has made it impracticable for us to remain here.. 

JOHN "I ALLOT. 
But you can have a uatural protector — 

TROLENE. 
However, what you have said is the greatest kind of comfort, whether 
it be really true or not. It is like wine in one's veins, so exhilerating that 
one lias courage to face the future.. 

JOHN TALCOT. 
i was telling you real truths to make you hesitate about going. 

TROLENE. 
We can't draw back now. I'm afraid we can never come back to this 
either. My mother and I both felt we must go at some time, but I was not 
prepared to encounter such cliange of lire and ideas as 1 am about to; so 
.hat I scarcely know whether I want to go or not. 

TALBOT. 
Please, then, do not go, Trolene; remain here happy in the recollections 
of a luxuriant childhood, a promising and beautiful womanhood, free from 
vexing cares and problems, happy amid these ancestral vales — a veritable 
Eden, your world and mine! I love you, have always loved you ever since 
we were childen together. Now, with all the fervor of a man's love I 
beg you to be mine. 

TROLENE, 
You care for me in that way! 

TALBOT. 
In that way and no other! A realization of what your departure meant 
to me, how Very barren existence would be without you, has made me a 
man full grown, with all thn ideas of fighting for and possessing the woman 
he loves. 

TROLENE. 
Oh, John, how 1 wish you hadn't spoken as you have! I wanted to 
think of this part of my life as a fairy existence, a dream life of things 
that happened beautifully and marvelously, without seeing the human effort 
behind — of our lives together as wholesome, sweet and pure; the rainbow 
tinted showers of glowing childhood memories. Now, I shall have to leave 
with a feeling of regret thf»t. I cannot satisfy you.. 

TALBOT. 
But why can't you satisfy me? It's just as you say. We've had such 
glorious times together, enjoyed each other so much. In fact, I cannot 
remember a quarrel or any time your seeming adverse to me; always in 
games, or where there was a chance to show preference,, you invariably 
chose me. 

TROLENE. 
Yes, you are right. I do care, but not the way you mean. Those 
were childhood games. A choice of a life partner demands maturer judg- 
ment. 

TALBOT. 
Where love is, there can be no judgment; one's senses are obscured, 
one's whole being vibrates and throbs with (makes a movement to catch 
her in his arms; she eludes him). 



THE CHOICE 



TROLENE. 
That is why I know 1 cannot marry you. .lust as Knowledge of ripened 
love has made you full-grcwn; so have 1 from pondering over problems my 
uncle's letters porli ad, and f< eling the responsibility of this critical □ 
without full realization until now, attained womanhcod. l know now that 
not marry you: I could not argue, nor reason, nor think it' I loved 
vim enough for that. 

TALFOT. 

m< \ batevcr kind of love it may be; the kind I want may com>j 

later.. 

TROLENE. 

It is pi isible had i never thought of leaving here, we might ha 

i arried; possible also we might have been contented; but now that these 

i tters have come from my uncle, new vistas are opened to me; old situa- 

on new lights. I have watched you with Jerome — certainly not 

; mprvelous r v amolo rf ideal m- nl i< d, one that would stand out clear in a 

multitude; neither is he a positive mark for scorn or ridicule. You need 

not Damon and Pythias each other. Neither ought the sight of one be so 

:r< mere contiguitv makes you prepare fcr battle. I know now 

v hat it is that makes you dislike each other a thing I was never before 

' ant cf -innate racial antipathy. 

TALBOT. 
I know very little of his race, but that little is enough 
TROLENE. 
(With a startled, yet Quizzical look in her eyes.) What a strange and 
; remark! Then there is such a thing as — 

TALBOT. 
1 don't know why it is. I am vet a bov. Mv mother never exoressh 
earned me nor taught me to hate them. The rot the Sunday schools teach 
Im ■ gotten. Yet, fr'-- 1 o--— «»> hate, I cannot bear — 
TROLENE. 
The Sundav schools, that is one root of the evil: thev ought to teach 
you to dwell in peace and amity, but instead of that they narrow your 
i and hi lp to perpetuate the prejudice. 

TALBOT. 

Pshaw! Why discuss things settled long before us'.' It's jolly to make 

e angry, but you are not like Jerome: you do not belong to his race; 

ikm d not fight his battles. There has never been a question of dif- 

race with you, and there never will be if you live here and 

marry me. You do not look like them: your marriage to me will blot out 

all traces ol it. I beg yen to be mine. (Takes her hand.) 1 hunger for 

you. (Puts his arms around her. I Trolene, my whole being cries out for 

(Clasps her in his arms and crushes her to him; she draws away i 

Cannot be mine now. promise at least to live here. Give me ;. 

■ i try tn v in j ou. 

TROLENE. 

It is impossible to accede to either of your wishes. I owe it to myself 

■ not the right to happiness through Ignorance; real happiness 

comes from knowledge and choice. I have never felt any differ 

other ii Is I, or my environment, i know not. My own experiences would 

' ; i\ lead me to believe they do not exist. But If there are buc!i 

: want to know them, all of them tin storms, the little ripples, 

undercurrents. You see now why I must go to learn for myself. You 

made me see there is something to all of this. But let's say no more 

about it. tl'uts her hand on his shoulder.) Forgive me, but you mu * 

that I can not now, nor could 1 ever, comply with either of your 



THE CHOICE 



requests. Let's resume as nearly as possible our former relationship. T 
must go into the house to prepare for my journey, for some of our friends 
will be here to say good-bye. Will you come in? (Starts toward house.) 

TALEOT. 
Not so quick, Trolene. I have a word to say. Ive always considered 
you mine; no alternative has entered my head. I've made up my mind to 
have you, and I'm not going to stop trying now. I'm going to make every 
effort to get you; I am going to think success, not failure. (Pause.) Should 
I fail — this is no threat, but a message surcharged with meaning — you wiil 
certainly regret it; if not your rejection of me, then the consequences of if. 
I do not know what trump cards Fate will give me, but I will play them 
when the time comes. Think on this before you give me a final No! 

TROLENE. 
You cannot frighten me. (Catches hand gaily.) Come, be John the boy, 
once more. I must run into the house and change my clothes. Come in 
and talk with mother, while this transformation gees on behind the scenes. 

TALEOT. 
No, I'll stay cut here awhile. Be quick about it, and think of what I've 
said.. 

(Exit Trolene. Enter a good many people, broken-down aristocrats, a 
sprinkling of Colonels and their wives, different characters to be seen in 
an aloof aristocratic village and on plantations, who live mostly in the past, 
modified only by styles slow to arrive. John TaTbot paces back and forth. 
Uncle Lige comes round, deposits the grips on porch.) 

UNCLE LIGE. 
What's de matter, Marse John? Pears like somefin ail you. 

TALEOT. 
No, nothing. 

UNCLE LIGE. 
Sorry, 'caise lil Miss is goin? 

TALBOT. 
Go on; let me alone. 

UNCLE LIGE. 
She'll come back. 

TALBOT. 
(Quickly.) Do you think so, Uncle Lige? 

UNCLE LIGE. 

She won't like it there widout Uncle Lige, and all dis house 

TALBOT. 
(Angry.) Shut up! 

UNCLE LIGE. 
(Ingratiatingly.) If she don' come purty soon, you kin go bring her, 
Marse John.. 

TALBOT. 
(Quickly.) You think she would come! 

UNCLE LIGE. 
(Grinning still more.) A little persuadin' would sholev fetch her. 

TALBOT. 
(Throwing him a coin.) Here, take this and go about your business. 
Good evening to all of you (as different ones come up). You may as well 
stay out here, for Trolene will be out in a moment. 

(Some of them, however, go inside; some stand around in groups, con- 
versing. Enter Trolene, dressed for travel.) 

LADY. 
(A beaming, motherly soul, kissing her on forehead.) I have brought 
you some quince preserves; you always liked them so. I made them just 



THE CHOICE 



I believe tkej are better than usual. .Moses! (an old, gray-haireJ 
near I Step up lively! 1 want you to bring them around to 
the house so Mrs. Godez can pack them with her thing , 

RESIDENT NO. TWO. 
I've brought you a cutting from that sunset rose u ; d to steal 
- from. I hope it will live and flourish. Whenever It blooms, ycu oaM 
think of the old folks hack home. 

TROLENE. 
,',v you, so much. I shall water it and try to make it grow, bui I 
• d that to raal e me think i C you. 
UNCLE LIGE. 
(Half running and hobbling in.) Gh, lil Miss, heah'a n box Marpe Hen^v 
■ couHn't "ome. ca'se he's down wid de rheumatiz. H' 
• 1 i' was oref-iou** *"Pd soroefin ns yon could kep'i forphhrr — p.irt of Rome- 
lly dat ef vou-e i-ee-1'ul. yoah chillens could hab it! 
TPOIFNE. 
it "Mist he something wonderful! Part of that silver service he treasures 
• e skin of (hat tiger he toueht so desperately? 
UNCLE LIGE. 
e, ('it's not hit — 

TROLENE. 
What cr.n it be, then? Uncle Lige, did he say? 

UNCLE LIGE. 
Nome, he nebber said nufiin, but I jes couldn't hope peepin', and what 
dees you think I seed? It was a whole settin' cf aigs from dat fine ol? 
h( d of his'n.. 

TROLENE. 
(Laughing.) How do you know it was the black hen? 

UNCLE LIGE. 

Heah's de feder to prove it! 

(Amid laughter Uncle Lige exits around house. Most of the guests have 
Into house to see Mrs. Godez.) 

TROLENE. 
And Mrs. Johnson, too; I thought you were ill!! 

MRS. JOHNSON. 

i Willi big, black reticule on arm, and closely followed by a little black 

niny, with a bundle bigger than himself.) Yes, honey. I have been ail- 

considerably, but I just had to come to see your dear face once more 

I brought that George Washington quilt along so that you could see it 

Here, Kastus, unroll it so Miss Trolene can look at it. I knew you'd like it. 

Here's two squares of yours (taking it from reticule). 1 just brought it 

along so you could see it. I would give you this finished one (wistfully) 

only I've been working on it so long. Here's some pills to keep your blood 

from freezing when those awful Northers strike you. I'll go in to voui 

motl 

(John Talbot, who has been moodilj pacing up and down, see-: Trolene 
and com* 3 hastilj to her. Uncle Lige drives in, seated on box seat 
d fashioned coach. ) 

UNCLE LIGE. 

Whoop! Hurray! ('.it up dar, Jeremia, don't let Queen do all de pullin'. 

Guilly, come en heah, you nigger! Vouse a reglar slow-poke! (Hobblea 

mes to help her with grip.) I be1 you won' come bo slow ana 

ly-lak, when dem cowboys sez biff, bing, bang, and punts a pistol a1 

von so, and sez. dance to this' 

AUNT GUILLY. 
■ on, niggi r. I aint skeered oh dem cowboys, and I proves it by 
Veu i> de coward, caise you is stayiif heah. 



THE CHOICE 8 



UNCLE LIGE. 
Somebody's get ter stay and take keer ob de house and de Missus' 
tilings. I jes wish I could go, so I'd show dem cowboys how to do things. 
To a real gent lak me, who's alius done things right, dem porely cowboys 
be lak skeeters or flies. All I gotter do is make my ole gun say biff, ban;?, 
and dem measly, pessiferous cowboys drop down dead; jes so. 

AUNT GU1LLY. 
Why, nigger, 1 dene heah de Missus jes beg you to go, say as how she 
teach you to be lak one of dem highferlutten butlers. I'll tell her you 
done change yeah mine! 

UNCLE LIGE. 
(Trembling and with a scary look in his eyes.) Don' you dare do dat, 
nigger. Ain't I done tell you de Missus need me heah. Besides I don' want 
no meddlin' wid my private 'fairs. 

MRS. GODEZ. 
(Comes out of house wiping her eyes, gazes around as though she could 
look enough to last always.) How I hate to leave this place — and all of 
you! Do you realize I have been here — always? I had hoped to live only 
a little while with my dear husband's memory and then let you take me over 
there to him. But I must cheer up for Trolene's sake. Good-bye, all of you. 
i Walks down steps to coach.) 

(Others come out and group around porch and look through door, etc. 
Trolene and John join Mrs. Godez as she starts to coach. John helps them 
in, first Mrs. Godez, then Trolene. Nervously arranges things in bottom 
of coach, arranges her skirts, so the door will shut; loathe to let them go.) 

TROLENE. 
( Knibarrassed, puts out her hand.) Good-bye, John. 

TALBOT. 
Is there nothing I can do to make you stay? 

TROLENE. 
Xo. 

TALEOT. 
Surely there is something I can do to make you alter what vou said? 

TROLENE. 
I am afraid not. (Pause; he looks intently at her; they shake hands ) 
In sweet remembrances, let us part. 

TALBOT. 
No! I've hopes of your return to me. Let us say — Good-bye! 
(Amid loud "Git-ups" from Uncle Lige, the horses start up. Curtain come.-! 
quickly down.) 



THE CHOICE 



ACT II. THE HOME OF LOUIS GODEZ. 

Scene: Library with bay in right, with mahogany cases to ceiling, alter- 
nating with French windows; violet velvet curtains within bay to shut oft' 
whole bay. A hooded copper fireplace at one end; at rear of stair a stately 
entrance door; the furniture massive in design. 

LOUIS GODEZ. 

(Affectionately.) Well, Trolene, I have certainly never regretted the 
day you and your mother came to live with me. I felt I could never survive 
my dear wife's death and it made me understand so much the more 
your mother's position. I have lessened my own griefs in making your 
life pleasanter. .My home is so pleasant since your arrival — I have no de- 
sire to go elsewhere. I fancy, too, it has not been such a bad thing for 
you. Both of vou look healthy and happy. 

TROLENE. 

Neither have I regretted it. I have seen more of life here in a short 
time than I ever would have seen in the whole span of my existence on our 
plantation. 

GODEZ. 

iTour mother, too, has a quiet enjoyment. Her life is beautifully spent 
in charity and love; the sharpened edge of her grief has worn off to sweet 
remembrance. How glad I am to have reclaimed such a flower as you for 
Israel! Vou are among your own people now. Do you not feel a difference? 

TROLENE. 

Yes, I do feel a great, a vast difference; I am at one with all around 
me, bound by the strong bonds of kinship, veritably imbedded in love; so 
satisfied and contented there is hardly an impetus to go further. Like th«j 
happy young hride, whose life all centers around and within her husband's 
life. 

GODEZ. 

Why want to go beyond when you have everything here? 

TROLENE. 

On the same principle you want other companions besides your sister- 
and brothers, no matter how dear they are.. 

GODEZ. 

I wouldn't try to explore any worlds. There are so many beauties \. 
this that will multiply day by day if vou live within it. 

TROLENE. 

Bui my coming las made me feel and realize things I never tcne* 
before. Tin re is a chasm, but it is like a mirage in a desert, sometimes 
sometimes there. When you have decided for yourself it isn't there, ir 
isn't real, you fall right down! I see now your reasons for claiming and 
handing together, aside from the need of such a step because of persecr 
ti' n and oppression. For that* purpose you do not use your strengtn 
enough. From a psychological standpoint, one is almost forced into it; you 
can never be quite sure just how the other party feels. Before I was alive 
to all this. I was happily comfortable. Cod knows whether you have done 
well or ill. I am net content to stay as you have placed me. I want my 
friends regardless of creed or nationality. I want them to feel the sam 
toward me as my other friends surelv vou have exaggerated! 

GODEZ. 

I'm afraid it's too true. You'll encounter it often. 

TROLENE. 

I'll have to take the stahs and the thrusts then, from those who do fe< I 
that way. My life is too broad to stay within the radius of your circle. 
But now. with every step — there will always be the undercurrent, real or 
imaginary the positive open stab that will bite and burn, or the fancied 
one my super-sensitiveness will conjure into reality.. 



THE CHOICE 10 



gode:z. 

Yes, it means all that. There is nothing to lighten it but the comfort 
. i your kind (patting her on shoulder). I see another meaning to your 
words. The symptoms of the disease cry aloud to everyone. Ycu are h: 
love; the man you expect to marry has a career before him — the future 
opening discloses many problems, demands careful study (teasingly). Come, 
Trolene, confess to a sympathizing uncle. I'll stand for no denial. 

TROLENE. 

I am not denying it, either his career or that I want to marry him. 
You are too discerning for us to ever try to fool you. He is coming herj 
today to ask your consent.. 

GODEZ. 

(Kisses her on forehead.) I am glad you are going to marry Meyer. 
Had I been asked to choose for you, I could not have selected a better. A 
very good partner; college-bred; has all the ear-marks of success, very 
popular, has held several offices, and is certainly holding his own in this 
race for Congress. 

TROLENE. 

All that is as it should be. I am happy over it, of course, but the main 
fact, the only thing that really matters is that we love each other dearly. 

GODEZ. 

All I can say then is thank Heaven, your love is so well directed. That's 
why I was so anxious for you to come before you formed any real attach- 
ments, for I always apprehended the possibility of your marrying outside. 
Not that I have any particular objection, but we both know such unions 
seldom express the sum total of happiness. 

TROLENE. 

Why, uncle, I always locked on you as broad and high-minded! 

GODEZ. 

I am broad-minded as regard the Christian part. I admire a man for 
loyalty to his faith. I also believe my judgment keen enough to discern a 
man in whatever guise he may appear. Only of your highest happiness was 
I thinking. I believe you have a better chance for marital felicity as it is. 
There are enough problems in life to combat without adding unnecessary 
ones tc the overburdened list. You would then have chosen not only out- 
side your home, but every step within. Here comes your mother, shall we 
tell her? 

TROLENE. 

She already knows — knew, I believe, before I did. She saw love plant 
the seed, watched it germinate, apprized me of it — I confessed! She is 
again living in mine the love episodes of her and dear father's life.. 

(Eenter Mrs. Godez.) 

GODEZ. 

Well, Mary, Trolene has been telling me some wonderful things. It 
seems we must make an addition to this family verv soon. 

MRS. GODEZ. 

fes, I think we can expect it at almost any time. Vet I cannot be 
sorry, regardless of my own feelings; for my own marriage was so happy 
that I could not keep her from her own. 

(Bell rings, butler ushers in George Meyer; all shake hands.) 

GODEZ. 

I think Trolene felt sorry for you, so acted as advance agent. We 
have just finished speaking of you and the purport of your visit. (Pause.) 
1 will ease you of all restraint and speak myself. I wish you all the happi- 
ness that can and ought to come to two people who will be so ideally mated. 

MEYER. 

Thanks, Mr. Godez. (Bowing.) Very many thanks. You certainly 



11 THE CHOICE 



have relieved me. One's heart never palpitates so rapidly, nor breathes he 
with such exasperating gasps, gets his words with such preporterous slow- 
ness, as when he asks lor the woman lie loves. (Goes to Trolene, puts 
arm around her, and says, addressing Mrs. GrOdez: "May 1, mother?" 

(Before Mrs. Godez can reply butler ushers in Mrs. Wetterly and Mrs. 

Jones. ) I 

TROLENE. 
(Going to meet them.) Mrs. Weterly! Why, how glad l am to 
you. Mother, this is the lady I told y< u about meeting on the train. Qncle, 
you, too, must remember hearing of Mrs. Wetterly. introduces Meyer. 

MRS. GODEZ. 
We arc very glad to meet you. 

TROLENE. 
We truly shared our crust together; we were stranded on the wayside, 
miles from anything to eat — the track had been torn up by a wreck. 
There was not very much in the way of supplies on board; what little 
there was rose t<; fabulous prices and disappeared as if by magic. 

MEYER. 
People have been known to become friends under less strenuous con- 
dtions, so yours ought to have been cemented strongly.. 

TROLENE. 
We had formed quite an acquaintance before the wreck and subsequent 
rise in the market.. 

MRS. WETTERLY. 
N es. we had; after so many things befell us the friendship was 
cemi nted. We promised, you remember, to see each other at our first 
opportunity.. 

TROLENE. 
Yes, we did. hut it has never been so I could pass through your part 
ol the country. With the exception of your cards, I have heard nothing of 
you. 

MRS. WETTERLY. 
Tli is has heen my first chance, so you may know how glad I was when 
I Found 1 must change cars here. It gave me the opportunity to avail my- 
self of your kind invitations. 

MEYER. 
We are more than glad you came. Trolene has often spoken of how 
i!< lightfully you had helped her to pass the long, tedious hours. She sail 
a great many complimentary things about you, so that we were very 
anxious to meet you. 

MRS. WETTERLY. 
Thank you lor telling mo so many kind things. It is reciprocal. I 
wanted to see her again — she is as charming in her home as on the train. 

MEYER. 
Of course, I may he prejudiced, but I think it possible you'll find her 
mi re delightful here. She has an infinite number of charms; each varying 
posture Beems to place her in a more favorable light, until one can scarcely 
decide in which she is the more captivating. 

MRS. WETTERLY. 
From what I have seen I think you are right. Your eulogies, accompanied 
by such animation, ar< almost a revelation. 

MEYER. 
Vdii have guessed aright; but I do not care now since she has con- 
m ted.. 

(Enter butler with tea tray, followed by Aunt Guilly to assist: passes tea 
around while Aunt Guilly, in assisting, slowly «a/.es at Mrs. Wetterly and 
Mrs. Jones.) i 

AUNT GUILLY. 

(Handing to Trolene.) Eieah, honey, I'se already fixed yours, caise I 



THE CHOICE 12 



knows jes how you laks it. 

TROLENE. 

You've spoiit me, so I scarcely believe I could fix it for myself.. 

GODEZ. 

(Continuing conversation with Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Weterly.) Yes, 
Meyer's speech was certainly a powerful one, and made clear much vile 
work, layers and layers deep. It took just such a keen analytical mind as 
his to discover such a labyrinth of political deviltry. 

MRS. JONES. 

1 have heard much of Mr. Meyer. To me he has always presented a 
noble figure and I think he has made a splendid fight. It is strange thai 
though he must be doing this to achieve his own ends, we never think of it 
that way, but feel that he has so helped the people he ought to have a rising 
vote of thanks. I think he will win out in spite of the fact he is a Jew. 
(She starts and colors.) 

GODEZ. 

'Sadly.) We forgive you like dogs who have had so many kicks that 
one more can scarcely matter. Besides you were so carried away you forgot 
your usual cauticn. I know that does weigh heavily against him, so much so 
that in his place I would not even try. But I believe that because he is a 
Jew, this time, will make him win out. Struggle is innate with him; he 
comes from those who, like truth, though crushed to earth, yet rise again. 
In spite of all they live on, multiplying and prosperous — not always having 
what they want, but making the most of what they get. The word Jew 
ought to be broadened and be synomomous with overcoming almost insuper- 
able difficulties. 

MRS. WETTERLY. 

(Hearing the last of the conversation is astonished, face and bearing 
expressing scarcely concealed dislike.) So you are Jews then! All of you? 
Your names and a certain cast of features made me think so! I have not 
had the inclination and scarcely have taken the time to familiarize myself with 
the race, so I suppose I could be forgiven for not recognizing remote traits. 
But surely not vou, too, Trolene. 

TROLENE. 

(Sarcastically.) Et tu Brute! Yes, I too, Mrs. Wetterly. You see be- 
fore you, so be careful, you stand in the very midst of those peculiar, 
astounding, horrible creatures you have read and talked about, from 
time immemorial and have never really known. Through the long, shadowy 
vista of years you can see the Jew hounded by persecution, driven from land 
to land no sooner than he had taken root. The worthy ones are so busy 
working out their own destiny that you do not know them. So you think 
the caricatures in your papers, the Shylock type, depict the race. Even 
the gamin in the street feels he has a right to insult us. A peculiar, pene- 
trating, subtle, untranslatable creature moving on and waxing greater, 
though from the beginning of time a tarantula-footed world has kicked from 
a million angles. A race upon which all peoples at all times, singly and 
conjointly, have felt and thought that it was their particular province to 
wage a war of extermination. Nations have fought and wrangled over an 
infinite variety of things, but upon this one subject they are all agreed. 
Destinv unfulfilled, we remain without a country, the leaven in the mass. 

MRS. GODEZ. 

You will tire Mrs. Weterlv and she is your guest. 

MEYER. 

(Laughing.) That's just it — she can't escape. 

TROLENE. 

I want her to see the other side; that's the finest education any one 
can have— to see the other side. Do not judge us by our lowest type. A 
large per cent has remained on top, though a number are at the bottom. 



13 THE CHOICE 



Altered and forced by circumstances into (lie lowest places, from genera- 
tion t<> generation, is evolved the type you from your rentage are pleased 
to call a Jew! you see in me one who has hud a more propitious life, 
broadened and modernized, just a vague suggestion of the features or traits 
sou characterize Hebraic, so dim that amid different surroundings you did 
int recognize them. So like you in every way, yet just that little difference 
i nougb to segregate me, to mark me, causing you to level at me all the 
anathema of pent up prejudice, hurl at me, "You, too, a Jewess!" 

GODEZ. 
1, too, am a Jew. Much nearer the conception you have cf a Jew than 
Trolene or Meyer. I am proud to be one. My "Yechashbrief" is in golden 

. showing generations of high priests; Intellectual and noble fore- 
fathers. Were Israel an established nation today, rightfully l would stanl 
rlose to the throne, if not upon it. (Sadly.) But enough of that: it is nol 
of my individual history 1 would speak; I only mentioned it because the 
popular opinii n is that we have no ancestry. You know the men and 
women, U > We live in the Bible. We have our histories to be proud of. 
Whin v/e were a nation with rights to uphold, we fought; since then we 

fought only as units, then merely tolerated, sometimes publicly dis- 

I. rarely accredited with what we had achieved. We have today lead- 
ers in every branch of life, more than you have an idea of, for man 1 
silent about their race. We who know it, also are silent. (Pause.. Paces 
hack and forth.) It is as I told you, Trolene. Better keep within the 
< ircle. You may have your friends outside; either they ignore you because 
you are a Jewess, or decide to like you in spite of the fact — the thing is 
always there. Just do one little thing unsatisfactorily, first they straightway 
hurl at you with all the invidious invective of inborn Semitic prejudice 
"You are a Jew!" "What else could I expect from a Jew'" "I was warned 
against your nationality!" As though they had been playing with fire and 
it had become uncontrolable. All of your qualities, good and indifferent, 
are forgotten In the engulfing word Jew! (Covers his face with his hands.) 

MEYER. 
I cannot say I feel as strongly as my future Uncle. However, 1 am 
inricd to think something on the subject, as it has been quite frequently 
l : ' nted to me. Sometimes the very air I breathe is pregnant with it. at 
others I do not know such a thing exists. I am not proud of it — a moment, 
Mr.;. We| ( rly neither am I ashamed of it. All of that is part of myself, 
my endowment. I accept it. I am not going to thrust it upon you at In- 
troduction, neither will 1 withhold it upon inquiry- The religion is too 
b autiful a thing for that. As for the race, it is not all angel, neither h 
it all devil. We lave a great deal on the credit side: we may not be belt' r 
than other races, but we certainly are no worse. Statistics show it has a 
smaller per cent of criminals and prcstitues — though 1 must admit that for 
:' timi thai small per Cent has made quite a stir. It is known because 
that is usually the first thing poinled out. We have very few beggars an I 
vagabonds, those few confine their solicitations to their owe race. While 
upporting its own charities, it has never, and I hope never will, refuse 

harity and good cause of others. The (lie occupation you blame them 
for was forced upon them ages ago; when all other livelihood was cut off, 
Lhey succeeded in 'hat because they used their brain it has income keen, 
razor-like through centurh s of use. Remember it was their one possession 
when tie i the covetous were east 'ipon them; they were driven 

villi (hat a little more sharpened to another country, and so on until today. 
< hi" tenure is never sure. I could make even you proud of us, if I 

• ould tell you all things I've heard my forefathers say, but you've heard 

• nough. Whatever we may think, it is not to be an issue in my life! 
(Pause.) I do not want to be separated, designated, pointed out on ali 



THE CHOICE 14 



occasions as a Jew! I am an American citizen, born here, bred here; I 
want not only the legal rights, but the real privileges that every other 
American enjoys. I am ready to give my country time, money and life 
blood; and I want everything she gives her other children. It is not right 
we should forever go around in a circle, fearful of one step cut! 

MRS. WETTERLY. 

I have certainly called forth some arguments. I have added to mv 

knowledge by seeing the other side. 1 understand what you mean, Mi. 

Meyer. I hope in your case it will not be a deterring factor. You cer- 

tainlv are the highest class, the fairest-minded, the whitest Jews I ever saw. 

MEYER. 
Thank you, Mrs. Weterly, but don't you see in the very midst of your 
evident kindness, you still designate us. We do not want that; we want to 
be great writers, great doctors, and so on, as such; not great for Jews. 
Even criminals, it is always the Jew — let it be the man, don't blame the 
race for what one man does. In writing our history designate us, classify 
us; except then, let us be one with you. 

TROLENE. 
I feel as you do, George. I also fear that at some time this will be 
a potent issue in your career. Should it ever come, I wonder what wou'd 
be your choice. I sometimes wonder if it has been a continuation of cir- 
cumstances or lack of prejudice here that has helped thus far (smiles), or 
that you are just you and they couldn't help themselves. You know and > 
know that people of acklownedged Jewish faith have never held the highest 
votive offices; the gift of most of the appointive places is gallery play, or 
to pull over the Jewish constituency! A barrier almost insurmountable 
added to the usual terrible difficulties. 

MEYER. 
( Musingly. ) I have often heard among ourselves, of course, that such 
and such a person, though prominent, rose no higher because he was a 
Jew. I do not know whether it is that or something else. Unless I 
encounter it, 1 will not let myself think it. This is a big high-minded 
country; the something else seems too puerile and unbelievable for it, and 
savors too much of the dark ages. But if it ever should come between 
me and my ambition, my career, I fear that I should juggle with it. If 
that did not succeed, God knows what I should do. (All silent for a 
moment.) 

MRS. WETTERLY. 
Ycu are the Mr. Mever who is making the heated race for Congress? 

MEYER. 
The verv same. 

MRS. WETTERLY. 
The election is over, is it not? 

MEYER. 
Onlv the votes to be counted and the public notified of the results. 

MRS. WETTERLY. 
You must be on tenter-hooks until you know the outcome. 

MEYER. 
Of course, I am anxious. I kept in tcuch until I came here. My prin- 
cipal nervousness is over with now, for I realize I have done all I could 
do, this time. 

GODEZ. 
Did the subject we have discussed so heatedly present itself in any 
phase? 

MEYER. 
Only a few minor thrusts. There were so many things to fight about, 
the others were so busy covering their own faults, defending themselves, 



/.; THE CHOICE 



they had do time to attack me. (Pause.) should l have thought my 
religion or race, which you will, such a potent factor for Failure, 1 am 
afraid I should never have had the courage to take the initial steps. 

TROLENE. 

You should not lot it affect you that way. Fight the harder! 

MEYER. 

I would have been so imbued with the idea of failure that my thoughts 
would have colored mj actions, or been transmitted to mj opponents, and 
so failed ignominously. 1 have been sure of my success until now. See 
how fast your seeds of doubt germinate! 1 feel that worlds may have been 
mi ant where nothing was expressed, or things meaningless to me may have 

M much to others. Has it been a silent potent force acting against 
me, so powerful that everything I said was futile, ro engulfing that none 
of my qualifications could count? (Shudders.) A laughing stock thai 1 
should even try a mere pigmy! What part of all of this is inherent, what 
part barnacles encrusting the real you, can be shaken off. (Passionately.; 
Why did you let me make a fool of myself? Why did you let me try? 

TROLENE. 

i Looking steadily at him.) There is nothing to shake off. Your inheri- 
tance is alright. Without individual hope, one is lost — carve out your own 
career.. 

MEYER. 

How can you keep this hope when the graves open up and show so 
many buried ones! 

i silence. All seem to feel impending failure. A newsboy passes win- 
dow, i 

NEWSBOY. 

(Calling out.) Extra! Kxtra! Tells all about the great political fight 
and who wins out. ..Correct issue. Daily Record, five cents. 

(Aunt Guilly rushes out to buy a copy; all is tense within. Aur.t 
Gilly comes in excited and clapps her hands.) 

AUNT GUILLY. 

Marse George elected, ['se gwine get to go to Washington, and sho»v 
doin Yankees what a pretty Missus l'se got. 

MEYER. 
(Sei/es the paper from Aunt Guilly — glaces at it.) Yes, in spite of the 
fact, I win! (Congratulations.) 

CURTAIN. 



THE CHOICE 16 



ACT III. 

Several years have elapsed. The place, Washington. The scene, a 
very spacious home: a beautiful -.stair, in rear, dividing at landing; right 
oJL stair a_door leading into card and supper rooms; to the left of stage, 
an alcove screened by flowers and silken curtains — an ideal place for pri- 
vacy and rest. An entertainment is in progress as curtain rises. 

HOSTESS. 
(Shaking hands.) How do you do, Mr. Lane? I am so glad to see you 
this evening. 

MR. LANE. 
Did you think I would be afraid or ashamed to come? 1 am too sea- 
soned a veteran to chafe at defeat of a bill.. 

HOST. 
I am glad to see you receive it with such equanimity. 
(Mr. Lane mingles with other guests present, as do all who come in.) 

GUEST I. 
I see the English Ambassador has his wife with him this year.. 

GUEST II. 
I no longer wonder about his leaving her at home last year, the mirac- 
ulous part is that he had the courage to present her this year.. 

GUEST III. 
(Joining the gossips.) Did you hear that Leroy was going to resign? 

GUEST I. 
You mean the secretary? 

GUEST III. 
Yes. 

GUEST 11. 
Hush, here he comes now. 

GUEST I. 
He can't hear. Tell us about it.. 

GUEST III. 
1 know none of the wherefores, only the rumor as I have stated it. I 
hear the President thinks of appointing Kohn in his place. I understand 
the reporters will have something in the papers tomorrow to feel the pub- 
lic pulse, as it were.. 

GUEST II. 
Surely not. Why he*s a Jew. 
(Enter Trolene — Mrs. George Meyer.) 

GUEST III. 
The President is not so popular. It couldn't hurt, it might help him. 
Think what a big bunch of votes it means should he need them thrown 
his way; much newspaper notoriety and a number of magazine article:; 
on broad-mindedness. You know that talk.. 

GUEST I. 
Here's Ambassador Sloan; he surely is a political body.. 

GUEST III. 
Yes, the weight of his presence is always enough to displace surround- 
ing substance. 

GUEST IV. 
Yes, but look at his wife, who has forgotten the lapse of years. Youth 
in brushing past has left only the curls and the simper on the gaunt form 
of age.. 

(Enter Bolloter and Clancy.) 

HOSTESS. 
It is a delight to welcome you here tonight. We are always so glad 
to see vou, though you give us little chance. 

HOST. 
The affairs of nations hang heavy over their heads. 



17 THi: CHOICE 



EOLLOTER. 

yes, we just left business and have to go back, too. Having a little 
■., we were glad of a chance to drop In for a while. 

CLANCY. 

(Politely.) We always enjoy your entertainments, know the best is t<> 
i,, i, Mind here and we arc combining business with pleasure Aft< r leav- 
ing you, we thoughl to find Talbot and M< yer here.. 

HOST. 

How about Meyer? Arc you still thinking of putting him up for nomina 
i Ion ? 

CLANCY. 
Ves. If cur crowd does put him up there's small chance for defear. 
The right man nominated, our side is almost certain of victory, there's such 
upheave! in the ranks of the others.. 

HOST. 
Are you sine he's the right man? 

CLANCY. 
Ves, he's very popular, and plenty of reserve force. 

TROLENE. 
(To In tcss.) Please pardon my delay; it was unavoidable. Plea 
lace me wherever you wish and 1 promise to stay there until you tell m ! 
to leave. 

HOSTESS. 
it isn't so had as that. The worst punishment in store for you is to 
'.and next my husband.. 

TROLENE. 
(Turning to Clancy.) Have you seen anything of my very busy bus 
i and? 1 really think I ought to leave town so that he would not be bur- 
• in id with a wife. 

CLANCY. 
Better stay here. We were saying some very flattering things of him 
ist now.. 

EOLLOTER. 
I am glad to see you looking so well tonight, -Mrs. Meyer. If you see 
uir husband, tell him we are looking for him. (Pass on and are greeted 
s< me of guests present.) 

JOHNSON. 
I se< you are here; a great many of our party are here scattered around— 
me of them have gone to our assembly rooms. (Closer.) Are you sure 
r's the right man? 

EOLLOTER. 

on that we are settled. We jusl want all of our men there to 

the tiling through, get our forces lined up so that everything will !>.■ 

ed before tin convention comes off. He is one of the men most before 

■ public; has a cban record, is brilliant, with all all the attributes that will 

ke our party win, or at least give us the best chance we know of. 1 

uri he'll he nominated, because all the leading factors want him. Our 

ils are stacked right. All we need do is play them right, and we can 

ninate him. 

JOHNSON. 
Are you sure we are so powerful? 

BOLLOTER. 
As sure a one • vi-r is in a political game. I didn't say our party will 
We haven't come to that; hut our nominee will. When you see who's 
and gel a little more information about the situation, you'll feel as 

do. 

CLANCY. 
<>iir party has more chance to win this time than ever, because the 
r side will put up the present OCCupant, and you know how very un- 



THE CHOICE 18 



popular he is. 

BOLLOTER. 

(Looking at watch.) We can't wait here any longer for Meyer and 
Talbot. We may find them there. Tonight's about the last night we have 
to fix things before we go to the convention. (Exit.) 

GUEST I. 
There go our pillars of State. 

GUEST II. 
You mean arch plotters. If some of the schemes that are hatched in 
those brains did not miscarry, Europe herself would be overthrown. 

GUEST III. 
T'm tired of plotters and politicians. I've been looking at Mrs. Meyer. 
She always makes you forget other things. 

JOHNSON. 
Mrs. Meyer? Her genial kindness, wit, brains and beauty make her 
irresistable. 

GUEST II. 
You certainly are an admirer. I understand her health is not so good. 
That is why she has remained almost in obscuritv before.. 

GUEST I. 
It does seem as if she would want to hear some of those thrilling 
speeches her husband makes. 

GUEST III. 
Her husband certainly is a power, one to be reckoned with. He has 
made such wonderful strides in the Senate. 

GUEST I. 
Here comes John Talbot. I wonder how long his reign will last. 

GUEST II. 
He seems to be as much in the ascendant as ever. He not only has 
power, but wields it in ways untold, not always so creditable. He holds 
the so-called big men in his hands; crushes them or lets them expand as 
lie will.. 

GUEST III. 
He's the last notch in political intrigue. 

JOHNSON. 
I am going to leave you people. I've been debating it with myself. 
(Laughingly.) It's unsafe to leave you, but it's risky to be seen with you. 

GUEST I. 
The hostess is leaving for the card rooms, I suppose. We'll hear some 
good things there. Often in the excitement of play they let slip words that 
afterwards can be beautifully pieced together. 

GUEST II. 
I prefer to take my chances in the supper room. One gets such de- 
licious things to eat here. Well, frankly, I've had very little today. 

GUEST III. 
I see Mrs. Capital in the other room. I want to see what she has on. 
She leads the dress market and has a corner on the society column on 
Sunday. 

(John Talbot just greeting the host and hostess as they pass out, comes 
to Trolene, stops bewildered.) 

TALBOT. 
You, Trolene! After all these years! 

TROLENE. 
Isn't it splendid to meet again? 

TALBOT. 

It certainly is, only 

TROLENE. 
It makes one feel young again.. 



19 THE CHOJCK 



TALEOT. 

That all depends on the memories with which one has lived Bu1 tell 
me (he winces) what is your name, for I know you have — changed it sine" 
V1 . iasi met? Let us be Beated first. (They walk to alcove and sit on 
. Now, tell me. 

TROLENE. 

My name; my, 1 thought you knew. 

TALBOT. 

. i have never w anted ' ; > hear.. 

TROLENE. 

Win hear now'.' 

TALBOT. 

it is part of the inevitable now. 

TROLENE. 
(Laughing.) Listen then, and 1 will untold the great mystery. I am 
.Mrs. George Meyer, the wile of your friend. 

TALBOT. 
,1,1 are Mrs. .Meyer, the much talked of wife of the \er> muchly 
talked of statesman! Trolene Godez and Mrs. Meyer the same. After all 
e years to meet and under such strange circumstances. 

TROLENE. 
For a while I was not really sure, never connected you with the John 
Talbot, but one glance tonight made it a certainty. How glad I am to 
know my old playmate lias risen so high. (With an open, cordial smile she 
looks up at him.) 

TALBOT. 
(Looking at her a long time, as though drinking in every feature.) 1, 
too, am glad. My leelinKs are too mixed for utterance. 

TROLENE. 
Why, you are too engrossed in weightier matters for such a small 
thing to affect you. 

TALBOT. 
(Again looks a long time at her.) Are you happy, Trolene? 

TROLENE. 
Yes, very happy — that is, in love. In other regards 1 could hardly say 
I am unhappy. 1 would not make it that strong. 1 just eliminate it from 
ibulary.. 

TALCOT. 

We usually let it slip with youth and other things. But there are some 
things we never forget; some images remain constantly with us, no matter 
nit of lives we lead. Lost hopes like strong diseases pass on, leaving 
that n. ver heal.. 

TROLENE. 
One as powerful as yen ought to have numberless unguents for your 
■ olitical B( 

TALBOT. 

I heal those with triumphs. There is only one thing in my life un 

(able. you. Don't start, for 1 must talk now that we have met. Alt." 

.n left I wrote to you again and again until wearied of no answer I d. 

: ded to go td you, either to persuade you or force you to accept me. On 

\e ( ,|" my departure, there came a letter to one of the girls announcing 

uir marriage. I cared not to whom, the act was enough. Almost im- 

ediately, without considering cost or consequences, 1 asked Sallie to marry 

Prom that time on 1 have never heard one word about you. Until 
could tear your image roni my heart, I would refrain from Inquiry — that 
all I could do for Sallie. 

TROLENE. 
John Talbot has bl < n so much in the spot-light one could not help 



THE CHOICE 20 



hearing of him; with so many points identical, if is strange I never saw 
you were he. 

TALTOT. 
i imagined you married to some rich man, a pleasant, gentlemanly fel- 
low — a foil to your beauty, an accompaniment to the theme of Trolene. 
For your husband 1 have treasured and reserved an intense animosity! 
To think after this lapse of years, I should meet and discover that George 
Frank Meyer, the man for whom I have entertained a real, true friendship, 
whose talents I have so admired, and of whom I am the staunchest of sup- 
porters, is your husband! 

TROLENE. 
No cne save I could have appreciated your friendship, counsel and 
support more than he. It gives me intenest pleasure to know my old play- 
mate and husband are such friends. 

TALTOT. 
And you never knew it was I? 

TROLENE. 
I was not sure. Often when George has spoken of something you had 
done for him, I thought to tell him of our former friendship, and have him 
bring you to my house. 

TALT.OT. 
Then he doesn't know? 

TROLENE. 
Of course not. He would have insisted on your spending week-ends at our 
home. 

TALT.OT. 
Possibly it is well that you did not. 

TROLENE. 
Why? 

TALTOT. 
It is well in any walk of life, but especially applicable to a political 
one, not to take any chances, but know to a certainty just what will be 
the effect cf such and such a move. (Silence.) 

TROLENE. 

You mean to say then 

TALTOT. 
Nothing. I was only making a favorite statement of mine. 

TROLENE. 
You might have enjoyed coming to our home. It was beautiful there. 
It would have been a rest, if not a positive pleasure, after the strenuosity 
of the city.. 

TALT.OT. 
Some pleasures are best untasted — like wines, they often go to the 
head. 

TROLENE. 
You only confirm my idea of wishing to remain in obscurity. My hus- 
band is powerful enough alcne. 

TALT.OT. 
A beautiful wife is alwavs a convenient adjunct. 

TROLENE. 
I did not know just how I might bungle things at inopportune moments, 
so I remained in the background. It is against my better judgment that 
I have this winter emerged. I only hope my coming to the front will 
not affect his career.. 

TALTOT. 
How silly of you! You could never be anything but a help. But 
tell me, have you never regretted your choice? Do you love him? Do you 
feel for him — what vou never could have felt for me? 



21 THE CHOICE 



TROLENE. 
\cs, without disparaging you, tor my preference could never mean that. 
I Loved 1 1 i 1 11 then more than I ever thought I could love anyon< it seems 
to be gathering momentum as it goes through the years. Instead of treas- 
uring Fancied wrongs, you Bhould rejoice with me. Especially as you have -i 
wife whom bv now vou must love. 

TALTOT. 

She is a jolly companion, a model wife, lint let us not bring her into 
the discussion. One more question — old acquaintanceship emboldens me to 
ash is he a J< 

TROLENE. 
Why do you wan; to know? 

TALTOT. 
Only because 1 remember so well your' reason for leaving our old home. 
1 merely wanted to know how the scale had balanced. 

TROLENE. 
Vou and my husband are friends — why did you never ask him? 

tale: OT. 
We've had too many other things to discuss. There was no i 
why I should ask him.. 

TROLENE. 
There is no reason why you should ask me. Some questions too im- 
pertinent to be asked, if asked, are best unanswered.. 

TALTOT. 
Things have gone on unanswered long enough between us. Do you 
intend to answer? (Whimsically.) Merely to know if he possessed some- 
thing 1 lack! Are you ashamed of your answer? 

TROLENE. 
No, but it seems strange, knowing Meyer as you do, you — do not — know 
what he is. Vou have some oth< r reason for asking.. 

TALFOT. 
Then you confess? 

TROLENE. 
1 confess nothing. 

TALETOT. 

Your very negatives have affirmed it. To think I have nurtured a Jew! 

i of all men! That 1 have watched him germinate, that I have so tempered 

he soil and watered it, that he has sprouted, shot up and branched out, 

intil now he is a good-sized tree — if left alone, will grow to enormous 

roportions, blossom forth in resplendent glory. Hut — unfavorable winds and 

orms can come. The axe can bite its way through vital parts. 1 have 

1 kinds of power and I know how to wield it. (Looks at her.) 1 never 

: t an appealing conscience or exotic ideas stand in the way. 

TROLENE. 
No! No!! No!!! Vou could not be so cruel; there are other was 
trike me, than through him.. 

TALEOT. 
It is a pity to strike so lair a tree with such certain aim, but there 
no other course so effectual. Vou must know it is not you I wish to 
tike. Can't you Bee I love yen as much if not more than ever? That 

turer judgment nor years have quenched the thirst for you? In the 
ginning I never loved a .lew; now I doubly hate one. This is my chanc • 
..• revenge on the accursed thins that separated us. 

TROLENE. 

(Excitedly.) It was not that, it never could have weighed one moment 

the balance had I loved VOU. (Catches his hand.) Please, I b<'£ you. 

nothing to hurt his future He has every qualification for a leader, his 

nd has gone out to achieve what he has. You, who are his friend, look 



THE CHOICE 22 



only at what you valued in him; pause in remembrance of our friendship, 
do nothing to cut short his career. It is his very life. If you cannot bo 
persuaded to countenance his race or religion — call it what you will — if you 
cannot lend him your powerful support, do not wreak your vengeance 
upon him. 

TALTOT. 
Vcu speak well, Trolene, but your words fall on barren soil. 

TKOLENE. 
Not if you loved me as you say. Our marriage being unalterable, should 
be relegated to the past. (Looks at him.) The love that could thrive un- 
nourished through so many barren years ought to so ennoble you as to 
cause you to place him where I want him because of me. 

TALFOT. 
What dead-as-dust ideas you have! That is not human. 

TROLENE. 
It could be made so, call it altruistic then — divine. 

TALF.OT. 
That is not part of my ethics at present. I could not hope to reach 
so high. 

TROLENE. 
Oh, yes, you could. That is the real ycu. Leave me cut of the ques- 
ticn. Do you think it right to blame George? It is no fault of his. Where 
is your golden rule? 

TALFOT. 
That is church property and should repose safely in its archives except 
on Sunday. 

TROLENE. 
You could not have done the things you have if there were not run- 
nine, through the warp and woof of your nature plenty of threads of 
nobility — if I could only gather them! 

TALDOT. 
Solely for your own purpose — you are trying to make me think myself 
noble. While even now (looking steadily at her) my mind dwells with 
strange insistency on what you said about our marriages. They are not 
unalterable, not a trace of disgrace need linger. It is as easily arranged — 
as your dress. 

TROLENE. 

(Aghast.) Do you mean 

TALF.OT. 
Just that. (Catches her hand.) I know what I want when I want it — 
the one thing I have always wanted and never been able to get. No means 
are above or below my efforts to achieve it.. 

TROLENE. 
From your own selfish standpoint you could not afford to risk such a 
thing, all the efforts and achievements of your life would be as nothing 
then. 

TALF.OT. 
You evidently do not know the men who have helped to make my suc- 
cess. (Eyes half veiled.) If it is matrimony to which you object — 

TROLENE. 
(Gasps and pales.) Do I look like that kind? 

TALF.OT. 
You look so beautiful and bewitching, I have so long craved you that 
(jerks her to him, kissing her vehemently; she pulls away). 

TROLENE. 
My God, you could never know how you have stabbed and hurt me. 
5fou are so goaded on by your desires, the feelings of others are crushed 
beneath. You are so encrusted with selfishness there seems not one vulner- 



23 THE CHOICE 



able Bpot at which to aim. But you must have some sense of justice, an 1 
some vestige of the heart you once had. l am going to plead one.- more 
to the best that is in you. For any unconscious wrong 1 have done you, 
you are more llian repaid in the stabs you have given me. Once more 1 
beg you, I praj you, 1 beseech you, I implore you forget the fancied wrong, 
think only of the man, noble, high-minded, able, ready for any emergency, 
qualified in the highest, capable of appreciating your friendship and worthy 
Of your powerful support. Do anything you wish to me, but do not visit 
ii upon his head.. 

TALFOT. 
What 1 have forced from you of him lias obscured all else. 1 could no 
long< r believe in his ability, nor care to have his fri< ndship. As for you 
(shrugs his shoulders and waves her aside as though he would not waste 
another thought upon her). 

(He walks out; at the same time some of the nun of his party enter 
in friendly converse with Mover and Bollcter.) 

EOLLOTER. 
(With his hand on Meyer's shoulder.) Well, George, we have all agreed 
you are the right man for the place. We feel sure of success with you 
in the saddle. 

MEYER. 
But Talbot? 

BOLLOTER. 
Talbot had everything fixed before he left the meeting. The reporters 
have been besieging us for news. Wo thought it best not to give out any- 
thing just yet. We want to find Talbot — he can Ii x things up in such fine 
style. Let him give the glowing items to the hungry pr< ss. 

MEYER. 
Thank you for the honor; if we win I shall do everything in my power 
to be worthy of the place. 1 never could begin to tell you what this means 
to me. Here conies Talbot, we can speak with him now. i Puts out hand 
for a friendly clasp.) 

TALEOT. 
i Ignoring it.) I hope 1 have come in time, before you put any chimerical 
hopes in your friend's breast. 

CLANCY. 
Our friend, you mean.. 

TALBOT. 
Xo. not ours. You noticed I did net return to the meeting. For tie 
sake of our party, I was delving deeply into our would-be candidate's his- 
tory. 1 found an unexpected clue and followed it. 1 was just returning to 
the meeting. 

BOLLOTER. 

The meeting is over. 

TALBOT. 
Over! Without my returning? 

CLANCY. 
When you hit you said nothing of returning; as you had arranged 
everything, we did not expect you. 

TALBOT. 
And how did things go? 

BOLLOTER. 
As \oii had ordered it. Meyer's the mat!.. 

MEYER. 
So you see I am glad you hunted up my record so thoroughly— I want 
everything above board. 

TALBOT. 

(Sneeringly.) Not everything, Meyer., 



THE CHOICE 24 



MEYER. 



What do you mean? 



TALBOT. 
We'll come to that later; others must be fixed first. The papers? 

BOLLOTER. 
Have nothing; we have come to you for that. 

TALBOT. 
Thank goodness for that. We will call a meeting later and rush a straw 
man in, or take the most possible one at hand. For in the interest of the 
country, Meyer's nomination at all hazards must be prevented.. 

ALL. 
Why, you were his most enthusiastic endorser! 

TALBOT. 
And his sincerest friend, I might add. But for the welfare of the 
Nation, which we all have at heart, it cannot be. I told you I had learned 
something. Has it ever occurred to you that our friend here never men- 
tions his nationality nor his religion. Look at him closely and see if you 
do not discern something foreign in him, some trace of a persecuted race — 
he is a Jew! (They all look at Mever for confirmation or denial.) 

MEYER. 
Of course I am a Jew. I have never tried to conceal it, nor to mislead 
you ; nor have I ever tried to deny it. My religion is too sacred a thing to 
be bandied about, flung in the face of every passerby. I am as much an 
American as any of you, for I was born and bred as an American citizen, 
and my forefathers have lived here for generations. I do not know what 
religion any of you profess, nor what foreign blood runs in your veins, 
but if I thought you fitted for a place and it were in my power to help, 
you certainly would have my support. I ask you to judge me as a man, 
and my fitness for the place we are speaking of. You know that I have 
a clean, straight record, my constituents are pleased with me. You, your- 
selves, have just been pleased to speak of my popularity, ability, power 
and dominion over men. You are too broad-minded a body to let such 
senile reasons — fit only for medieval days — prevent you from selecting a 
man whom you have all along preferred.. 

CLANCY. 
(Looking at Talbot before speaking.) Very few of your race have risen 
so high as you, politically — there must be a reason. 

BOLLOTER. 
(Hedging.) Of course. 

MEYER. 
(Sarcastically.) The reason is very evident. The only wonder is that 
they live at all. It is different — you are liberal and intellectual, like th<> 
age we are living in and the history we are making. 

CLANCY. 
Personally we are hurt— we hate for this issue to come up. 

ROLLOTER. 
I believe in following the lines of least resistance. I haven't the 
courage to furnish a precedent.. 

TALBOT. 
That is too wild: we would be dealing in firebrands. 

MEYER. 
Epochs in history have been created by men striking out for them- 
selves; breaking down precedent. 

TALBOT. 
They usually bled, too; while the next generation or two rolled around 
and got the results. We do not care to make epochs. We want our nomine.? 
elected. Everything is brought to light in a race as difficult and sharp 
as this. Suppose it should become known that you are a Jew? 



25 THE CHOICE 



MEYER (Sarcastically.) 
Men have been known to win with worse tilings than that against 
them. V mi are men of such brilliiant mentality, so learned in the arts of 
Intriguery, dyed-in-the-wool diplomats, Buch veteran campaigners, the very 

ii. plus ultra of your art, you sun iv could keep such a calamity hidden. 

BOLLOTER. 
We are not prejudiced as you might think; I admire the Jewish people 
to me you are a marvelous race and we owe a great deal to you. (I'm 
hands In vest and begins in an oratorical way.) All down the pages of 

sacred and profane history 

MEYER. 
Yes, .Mr. Bolloter, 1 know just what you are going to say. I've heard 
it before. All your beautiful, high-flown speeches delivered from your pul- 
pits, and used with telling effects by your best orators, used appropriately 
to ease us of our monev or to lure a wary vote. 

BOLLOTER. 
Come, not so bad as that. 

MEYER. 
Not untl you are touched. That there is a prejudice I now unfortunately 
know; it is strong, intense, elemental in the lower classes, acquiesced in 
and tolerated by the middle classes, beautifully veneered in the upper 
circles. You laud us to the highest in the abstract, but one touch of the 
concrete is enough to uncork your bottled invective. 

TALBOT. 
It is for the country, I tell you, not ourselves. We feel the same to 
you as we did before. Everyone knows of the clannishness of your race- - 
the whole country would be overrun by you! 

MEYER. 
We could be no worse than the trusts and monopolies that now infest 
the country. Give us a chance to show what we can do. Try it as a 
novelty then — novelties have swept the country before.. 

TALBOT. 
I don't care for novelties. The tacit consensus of opinion is to keeji 
vou out of power; this is our country and we propose to keep it. 

MEYER. 
It is only so because you have a majority. Our people do not use 
what power they have, if they did — they prefer to go in the paths they know, 
to suffering the pangs and heart-aches I now endure. You have no right 
to tell us we shall go so far and yet no further, and we have no right 
to accept your mite. We give of everything we have, and we ought to 
have our recognition and representation, and we do not want it as Jewish, 
but as citizens. This is no more your country than mine. I've heard 
you boast of your English ancestry; most of you present are only here a 
generation or two. This is an amalgamated country. You wouldn't let a 
real American hold an office if you could help. I have no doubt were you 
in my place at present and it were necessary to prove yourselves American, 
you could trace direct descent from Pocohontas, or some lesser light of 
the Red race. 

TALBOT. 
However, we are in possession and we do not propose to foster un 
necessary trouble. 

MEYER. 
you wouldn't be. Jews have the power of assimilation, if they are only 
allowed to use it. Since you persist in thinking of me solely as a Jew, 
then help to nominate me and light for my election, and I will show yo.J 
how cue can rule. You know how we ruled when we had a nation. Look 
down the line and you will sic our immemorial characteristic of making a 
succes of '\ery undertaking to which we turn our keenly sharpened brain. 



THE CHOICE 26 



Tottering enterprises have risen to nourishing conditions \inder our man- 
agement. I suppose we could loot the treasury, nourish the trusts and 
practice the noble art of graft. As for your other complaint I will take 
my oath to it that I will not prefer a man or give him more consideration 
because he is of my faith. 

TALBOT. 

That ail sounds very well, but we could never be sure of you. Wo 
can't afford to take the chance. 

EOLLOTER. 

Meyer, I like you — and I feel you ought to have the place. We were 
ready to give it to you before this issue came up — let's get rid of the issue. 
F.eccme one with us, so that we can be sure of you. One Jew less in the 
world would make no difference. Then should this ever come up we could 
ccme out joyfully and say that you had foresworn it, that you preferred to be 
and were cne of us. That if nothing else would make you win out. Come, 
say you will, then this will be forgotten and the place is yours. 

MEYER. 

(Staring straight ahead, cover his. face with his hands.) 
God, do not make it so hard as all that. Put me through any 
other crdeal! Year in and year out have I carefully woven this fabric- - 
everything that did not tend to make it stronger, that might let it warp or 
break, has been cast aside! Everything I ever wanted, every possession 
and desire of my life, has been subverted to this one thing! All these 
years wading through the depth of darkest despair, every feverish fiber 
within urging me on to the coveted goal now in sight. My very soul 
within me urges me onward! Is this a part of me — haven't I a right to 
cast off what impedes me? I could cast it off, and as the years went by 
and my strength increased, I could make reparation. This heritage of a 
race without a country was given me without my knowledge. Why should 
I give the death knell to my future by clinging to it? I know of no particu- 
lar good I have done for Israel. What harm could my defection cause? 
(Paces floor. Talbot looks on sneeringly, for in either case he has won.) 
The most jealous and avenging God could not exact such a pennace. It 
would be a chance to prove to all the world how a descendant of Solomon 
could rule. I shall try to so temper every circumstance in conjunction witn 
sagacity, ability, firmness and justice as to make my position an example 
for all time. My renegade body will be the bridge over which Israel will 
cross to regions of higher freedom. The chasm ence spanned, the road 
will be easy for ether aspirants. Though the first shock from knowledge 
would cause sorrow, possibly loathing, in future thinking of the heights I 
reached they would be brought to look more leniently on the steps I climbed. 
Gentlemen, I believe — I have a right to — say — 

TALBOT. 

( Sneeringly. i Yes? I feared as much. 

TROLENE (Who has been a concealed listener.) 

(Rushing from alcove to Meyer). No, no, no! Do not decide so quickly. 
I know what it means to you, but you couldn't. It would be a spectre at 
every feast. Israel does need you, she has withstood all oppression, fought 
struggles, travailed for you. She needs you to stand out clear and strong 
as her heir; she has withstood all contrary arts and combinations. She 
expects perpetuation in us. We are her hope and if the best of us con- 
tinually forsake, it will leave her only dregs. (As in a vision.) Can you 
not see them as they land, with their hastily tied bundles and paltry house- 
hold effects? The anxious mothers, hopeful children, the patriarchial fathers, 
uprooted, transplanted without much chance of life in foreign soil? Though 
hounded and persecuted, unendingly, through the centuries, marked with the 
searching beady eye, the gestures of diffidence and humility, he still loves his 
Gcd, clings more closely to his religion and his ideals. Such are not to be 



B7 THE CHOICE 



laughed at and scorned: il we only see what made them BO. They come 
nearer, the patriarchial grandfather, high-bred, scholarly, the old worn-out- 
before-their-time women, persecuted to the dumb submission of despair, work- 
hardened men, hounded and anxious, the younger women, glorious-eyed, sur- 
charged with the woe of centuries, the children, offspring of a marked race, 
progeny of destiny, too young for understanding, yet feeling the strand. • 
weight. In the face of all there glows the lambient flame of hope — they have 
reached their haven They look to us, to you and me, who have the will, 
the strength and the power, to do. 

(Trolene keeps her hand on Meyer's shoulders. The others stand expec- 
tantly around; Meyer stands dazed. Then all look of indicision leaves; an 
exalted one comes over his features.) 

MEYER. 

Ci'iitlemen, above the tangled mass of my own desires, theie soars a 
higher (puts his arm around Trolene.) There can be no choice! 

CURTAIN. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



017 400 966 1 I 



